


White Snow and Ruby Ford

by Sookiestark



Series: Ghost Stories of Westeros [13]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Ghosts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-03-20 18:51:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13723848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sookiestark/pseuds/Sookiestark
Summary: Lord Stark, Lord Reed, Wylla and baby Jon camp at the Ruby Ford on their way back to the North.Wylla's POV. Wylla has a special gift.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, this story has been floating around for a year. At first, it was a love story about the ghosts of Rhaegar and Lyanna meeting after they died.. However, though we will see them meet in the next chapter, I have a hard time writing them well. So, it went a different way... I like writing about the smallfolk. I also wonder what Wylla thought was going on, why would House Dayne send her North with a man who they should only despise? 
> 
> The ghost part happened because I love ghosts and ghost stories...

Lord Eddard Stark had not wanted to go this way. He had not wanted to return to the Ruby Ford at the Trident. The sun was clear, but it was still cold. Winter was still here and tonight was the longest night in the year. However throughout the trip North, he had avoided staying at castles or inns and Lord Stark had not wanted to see Lord Frey at the Twins. So, the Ruby Ford was the only way to cross the rivers to go home. 

Wylla watched Lord Stark as he had struggled with what to do, scratching at the beard he was trying to grow on his boyish face. A beard won’t make you wise was what Old Lord Dayne would say. One thing she had learned on this journey North was that Lord Eddard Stark was just a boy in man’s armor. He seemed full of doubt and grief, not at all like the blood craving, hedonistic, wanton creature she had expected. After all, this was the man who had taken Lady Ashara’s honor, as well as starting a rebellion to usurp the Iron Throne. He had succeeded and murdered poor Princess Elia and her children. 

Of course, Old Lord Dayne had told her it had not been all Lord Stark’s doing. It had been the Lannisters, but still, the new King had married a Lannister and Lord Stark had embraced the King, as brothers in the Red Keep. 

She had not wanted to go North with these two strange Northern men and nurse Lord Stark’s bastard. The day Lord Stark and Lord Reed arrived with Dawn, Lord Dayne had called her to his solar. Wylla had only been there once or twice before, even though she had lived her whole life at Starfall. His fingers as granted as weirwoods, he had taken her hands in his and smiled. He told her that he had needed her to do this for House Dayne, to go North with Lord Eddard Stark and his crannogman Lord Reed and care for the baby. 

“My Lord, he has killed the Sword of Morning and has hurt the Lady Ashara. Why would this be for House Dayne? Let his infant die, like my Jace did or Ashara’s girl did. Let justice be served.”

He smiled gently at her and her insolence. It had been said that his youngest son had been sleeping with her mother and that she might be the Old Lord’s granddaughter. People had said she had looked liked the boy, except that she had dark hair and eyes. It was said this is why the Old Lord allowed her so much freedom in the keep and such insolence. Her husband had told her she needed to remember her place. She had laughed at him, but now he and the son he gave her were both dead, dead because Lord Eddard Stark and his foster brother Robert Baratheon had decided to go to War with the Old King and his beautiful son, Prince Rhaegar. 

Old Lord Dayne had taken her hands in his old but still strong fingers. “I need you to do this for me and our House. The infant needs you and it might help you in your grief. Do it for me. Go North with Lord Stark and the baby. I will keep your girl, Daisy and we will get you on the fastest ship when you return to Starfall. Remember when you were a girl and you told me that you would go on an adventure. This is your chance, Wylla.”

 

“But he hurt Lady Ashara. He killed Ser Arthur.” 

I know.. I know how difficult it is. So complicated. But he has returned Dawn and the child is still a child. I am asking for you to do it for House Dayne. Take care of the baby, Wylla.”

“Milord, do you trust him to send me with him? He could be a wanton and wicked creature..”

“I would never see you come to harm, Wylla. I promise you, Lord Stark is an honorable man. Be obedient and take care of the child.” 

She had already known that Lord Dayne would ask her. The night before, Arthur had come to her room, tall, strong; he was dashing, even in death, “Wylla,” he had whispered, and he told her of her father’s plan. “You must do this, Wylla. For me.”

Arthur spoke no further to her and disappeared in the morning. 

She had remembered when they had been young playing on the banks of the Torrentine. He had been her first kiss and her second and her third. Finally, her father had caught her and she had been beaten for it.

Later she had learned, Arthur had had his father intervene. As she lay in her bed, Arthur had come to her room, saying, “I am sorry, Wylla. I am sorry. Your father will never hurt you again. No one ever will, as long as I draw breath. I have not as been as honorable as I should. I should have told you sooner I am going to King’s Landing to be in the Kingsguard.” 

Wylla had known he was going to join the Kingsguard. She had known with every kiss that it was just that a kiss, and it was all the sweeter because of it. Whether she was a Dayne or not, she was not acknowledged. A nameless bastard would never be a match for Arthur. However, Wylla was not stupid. She had listened to Arthur and heard his dreams of being a knight of legends.

Arthur had been fostered in King’s Landing and only came home occasionally to visit. Prince Rhaegar Targaryen was his best friend. They were cousins, but more like brothers, inseparable. The Prince had even come to Starfall twice. He was a bookish creature, lovely and withdrawn Wylla thought he looked like Lysene porcelain figures in Lady Dayne’s parlour.

Arthur had spoken softly before he left, “I am sorry that I have taken what you might not have given if you knew..”

She had not wanted him to apologize for his sweet kisses and would have never wished them away. Wylla’s voice cracked as she spoke, “Do not apologize for them.”

Arthur went to King’s Landing to join the Kingsguard and she was married six months later to Denys, a farrier at Starfall. When Arthur come home a year later, so that his father could bequeath the Sword of Morning to his son, she was pregnant. Arthur had congratulated Denys and hugged her quickly. Denys never knew about her and Arthur's kisses. 

She had whispered to him, “I am so proud of you.” 

Ser Arthur Dayne had smiled and his smile was as bright as the morning.

Still, even after Arthur’s ghostly visit, she had thought to refuse. But when they handed her the tiny, scrawny, hungry baby with his dirty face and his dark wispy hair, something had twisted in her heart. Wylla had put the child to her swollen and aching breasts to nurse. At first, the boy was dehydrated and sickly and she had not thought something so young and so sick would make it. But little Jon had pulled through with her care and mothering. When the boy had stabilized and whatever amends have been made between Lord Stark, Lady Ashara, and Old Lord Dayne, the small party had headed North. 

Though she had given her heart to the baby, she was not sure of Lord Stark. 

Regardless of whether Wylla’s father was a Dayne, her mother’s family had served House Dayne, as long as House Dayne had swung the Sword of Morning. Her grandmother would tell her that they might be small folk, but that did not make the blood of the First Men any less in them. The blood of the First Men had led to strange gifts, but nevertheless, gifts. 

One of the gifts of the First Men, Wylla had was she could see and speak to the dead. She had realized this a child, when her mother had beaten her for speaking lies after saying her grandmother would come to her and sing songs at night. Wylla’s grandmother had died of a fever while her mother was pregnant with her. The next night, her grandmother had told her stories of her mother when she was young. The next morning, when she told her the stories, her mother had believed her daughter had a gift, after telling her things only her dead grandmother would know. 

Most of the household staff of House Dayne knew of Wylla’s gift. Occasionally, some would have her try to reach out to their beloved dead. However, most of the dead do not remain behind and so more often than not, Wylla would say the words that they wanted to hear; that they were forgiven and all was at peace. Sometimes, the dead would seek her out .

As they went through the Prince’s Pass, she spoke to Lord Stark and asked a question. “Milord, would you allow me to pay my respects at the cairns were the Tower of Joy stood? My family has served House Dayne for generations and Ser Arthur and I were childhood friends.”

 

She did not know if he would grant her request but he did. Wylla thanked him, as Jon was in a sling around her front, and went back to her silence helping Lord Reed navigate the wagon through the steep cliffs. She had not asked Lord Stark for much since the journey. Wylla did not think he was used to women and he was definitely not used to common women. He would try to give her more to eat or an extra blanket or would look away, for modesty sake, when she fed his son. It was almost amusing how he treated her like she might break or that she didn’t squat to pee. 

When they pulled over to the eight cairns at the Tower of Joy, she had asked him which was Ser Dayne’s. Lord Stark had brought her to the one nearest to the overlook, a quiet peaceful place, and taken the baby from her so she could greive. As she had cried, she had collected vines from had made a seven pointed star to mark his grave. 

When they left the Tower of Joy, three ghostly knights of the Kingsguard rode away with them on ghostly steeds. She had recognized one as Ser Arthur Dayne immediately. She had tried to speak to him that night, as he stood in silent ghostly watch at her tent. But he would not tell her why he was here, though he did smile kindly at her.

She assumed the other two must be the Lord Commander, Gerold Hightower, and Ser Oswell Whent, both who have been slain with Ser Arthur. When Arthur wouldn’t speak to her, she was certain that they had come to get their revenge on Lord Eddard Stark. She had thought if all three of the Kingsguard had come for him, he must have done something horrible. Surely, he must be a despicable person to raise three Kingsguard from their rest. 

At Nightsong, they had received word that Lady Ashara had thrown herself from the tower after they had left. Lord Stark was visibly shaken and apologized to Lord Caron, but left without spending the night. Instead, they had camped on the road. She had cried that night, holding the baby tight. She had cried for her husband, Denys, for the Old Lord Dayne’s son, Prince Lewyn, all killed at the Trident. She wept for Princess Elia and her children, for Arthur and Ashara, and for Jace, her own son taken in his sleep by cradle cough, only a few days before Jon came.

The baby had looked up at her with his gentle grey eyes and smiled for the first time. She had smiled back at the tiny motherless creature. For the first time, Arthur left his post at her tent and had put his hand on her shoulder. Wylla thought he might speak and tell her why he was here. However, Lord Stark had heard her crying and asked if she was well, interrupting her and Arthur. 

Wiping her eyes before he opened the tent, she had wanted to say something to him about how he could break Lady Ashara’s heart with grief, but she held her tongue. There was something about the paleness in his face and the tightness of his jaw that she could sense his grief and remembered that he had lost his father, his brother, his sister and many of his men. She remembered that he did not get the same luxury that she had to choose her own husband. His wife had been chosen by the need for an army, the need for alliances. 

Lord Eddard came in her tent that night and talked with her about her childhood in Starfall, and his in Winterfell. He asked about her husband and she told him that he had been a farrier that had died at the Trident. She had asked about his wife and he had said that he barely knew her, but that she had a son waiting for him at her father’s castle. He had handed her a handkerchief and went back out in the night, apologizing for her loss, never seeing Arthur.. 

They were in the Stormlands when they were beset by a small group of brigands. There had been five in the party, half starved, dirty soldiers who must have fled during the War and were making their way by stealing. They had wanted the wagon and all it held, their horses, Lord Stark’s giant sword, as well, as a turn or two with Wylla. 

Lord Stark would not even allow them to finish their words. He had given her a look which told her to get in the wagon and protect the baby. During the fight, she had seen Arthur whisper in Lord Stark’s ear and guide his blade to its true mark. Ser Whent helped Ser Reed in the same way. Ser Hightower stood in front of her and said the first words any of them ever said to her, since they started their journey, “Keep the baby safe, girl. Stay here behind me, but if I say run, you run to to the left as fast as you can.”

When the fight was over, Wylla knew the Kingsguard were not there for revenge. For some reason, they were there for the baby. She also knew for certain, Lord Stark had not killed Ser Arthur in a fair fight. Watching him, she could see though he was a good swordsman, he was no match for Ser Arthur, not even on his best day.

When they had arrived in King’s Landing, Wylla had asked for a small room in the servants quarters. The Red Keep was filled with ghosts, but in the servants quarters, the ghosts were quieter. In the throne room, she could hear the ghostly screams of Princess Elia and her daughter, Rhaenys, as well as all the other who had been burned by wildfire. She had whispered to Lord Stark, “Milord, let us leave this place. Please, milord, it is unsafe here. Let us head North quickly.”

Lrrd Stark had looked at the baby in his sling, dark hair curling, as he sucked his fist in his sleep. “I agree, Wylla. I must tell the King that Lyanna is dead and then we will continue to Winterfell.”

Wylla had been afraid in the Throne Room, afraid of the Iron Throne, made from swords and dragonfire. She had been afraid to look at the King and Lord Stark speaking, afraid to listen. However when she did glance up, she noticed the Ser Hightower whispering in Lord Stark’s ear and telling him what to say. She wondered if Lord Stark could hear him or was it just suggestions, whispers into thoughts. 

Loud and laughing, the King came down from his throne to see Lord Stark’s boy. For some reason, King Robert thought the boy was hers and she was too afraid to correct him. When he had asked to see the baby, she had looked at Lord Stark who had nodded, trying to reassure. Lord Stark had even placed a hand protectively on Wylla’s arm. But, she heard Arthur speak to her from behind, “Do not let him touch the baby, Wylla.”

She had unwrapped the boy and shown him to the King. Robert Baratheon, handsome and strong, had laughed a rich sound and clapped his friend on the back. When Robert went to touch his dark baby hair, she had pulled him from him, realizing her insolence. Robert only laughed, slapping her bottom, playfully. “Ned, he is a fine boy and looks like you. The girl is pretty too, curvy in that Dornish way. Finally, good honorable Ned shows himself to be a man, like the rest of us.”

The King laughed and laughed and looked at Wylla in a lecherous way. Wylla did not like the King, at all. Ned stepped between her and the King. Protectively, he stood there and she realized that Lord Eddard wanted the King to think she was his woman and this was their child. 

When Ned told the King, he had found Lyanna dying at the Tower of Joy, she looked at Arthur, who showed no emotion. King Robert roared and raged how his betrothed had been raped and murdered. Later, she would ask him the truth of it. Arthur would never allow a lady to be raped and murdered by the King, or would he? Prince Rhaegar had always been his best friend. What roads had Rhaegar led him down? 

They stayed in King’s Landing for three days. When they took the Kingsroad north, Wylla had the sense that all the travellers were glad to see them the capitol behind them. Lord Hightower disappeared after they departed King’s Landing. When they passed Harrenhal, Lord Whent disappeared. Wylla figured the business they had had been settled. But Arthur had stayed with them. 

Perhaps, it was because Lord Stark was raised in the North with their superstitions of the Long Night. He had wanted to be home by now, but it had been slow going with an infant and a wet nurse. Also, with the shortened hours of light, they had less time to travel. He did not want to risk traveling at night and busting a wheel or making a horse lame. 

So here they were at the heart of where the Battle of the Trident had been faught, as night settled upon them. Wylla wanted to tell Lord Stark this was a haunted place and they would get know rest here, however by looking at him, she knew he already felt that way. Even though the battle had been more than than half a year ago,still there were bits of rusted armor and broken wagons, covered with snow, shapeless forms under white.

The Citadel had said spring would be coming. However on this night, the air seemed heavy and cold and winter seemed still strong. Lord Reed had spit three times when they had set up camp to ward off evil. She had seen Arthur whispering in Ned’s ear, suggesting that they camp here. 

Wylla knew this place was haunted. She could see the broken men and their bloodless bodies wandering across the fields and water. She had wanted to tell Lord Stark to press further on and not stay here. Instead, she had to soothe the baby. Jon, who normally was a happy sweet thing, was screaming and would not be soothed. She wrapped him tighter and rocked him, but he would not stop his keening. 

So, they had set up camp for the night on the banks of the Ruby Ford, amid the white snow, to camp for this dark and frozen night.


	2. Chapter 2

Howland woke several times, thinking he heard a noise like a great beast dying. However, when he would get up to look, he would find nothing and no trace of a disturbance. Each time, Howland felt unsettled and swore he would not fall asleep again. It seemed that sleep would have its way with him every time. He spent much of the night, deep in nightmares; of facing the dead Sword of Morning, Arthur Dayne, of his wife, dying in childbirth with their first child before he could get to her, of the Neck being invaded and the marshland being a burnt and ruined place.

Ned had nightmares all night, nightmares about being beheaded on the Sept of Baelor, about Jon being torn to pieces, about a man who looked like him being stabbed and dying, as the snow fell. 

In her tent, Wylla finally fell asleep with the baby curled next to her. She had thought it strange that the baby who had cried so loudly and so fiercely, had fallen asleep so suddenly. However, the babe did not have a fever and did not seem ill. In fact, his warm weight in her arms brought her comfort, and her sleep followed just as quickly as his.

If she had been awake, she may have seen him, rising from the water like a mist. 

 

\----

 

Rhaegar knew what he was, that he was dead and had lost the battle. Sometimes, he had wondered why he had not gone on to the bright light where peace and rest were. He had tried drifting toward the light but had stopped by the thoughts of Lyanna and their child she carried, of Elia and his other children, of his mother and Viserys, of the fate of the Seven Kingdoms with his father unchecked. The peaceful bright light had faded and Rhaegar had found himself trapped here at the Trident, useless with his thoughts, his worry, and his grief.

Some of his fallen men had stayed with him, as spirits, grief-stricken and honor bound. Rhaegar wondered sometimes if this was hell and he was trapped here for his pride or one of his other many failings. He could not tell how many days had passed since he had passed into the world of spirit. Things on this lonely and haunted battlefield stayed the same relatively, day after day, night after night. He did not know how to get to King’s Landing or Dragonstone, as he could not remember how to start a journey away from where he was killed.

Rhaegar stood on the river bank and saw that people were camping here tonight. He saw the two men sleeping. One should have been keeping watch, but had fallen asleep. After all, there was still danger here, there were still bandits and robbers in the woods. Sometimes, Rhaegar would watch them. Sometimes, he would appear to them, scaring them away from robbing the fallen dead.

It took a great deal of energy and will to appear to the living. Rhaegar had found as time passed he had little of either, will or energy to try. 

Rhaegar was drawn to one of the men. This traveler and his bags in the wagon had stirred him up, stirred him to take notice to look. He didn’t often wake from the waters of the Trident anymore, but there was something about this small party that woken him. He drifted over the horses, the wagon, and the tent. There were six horses, though there were only two men. The other horses had been hitched to the wagon and the others had been tied to trail after the wagon.

In the wagon was several boxes. In one, underneath the supplies, his harp, and the dragon cloak he had tied around Lyanna’s shoulders. In another box, a weirwood one were Lyanna’s bones and it was as if they sang to him, clear and loud. 

Being near them, he could almost see her in his arms on the morning he left the Tower of Joy. She had been anxious.

“All will be well,” he had said “Worry not... All will be well.” 

His voice did not convince him. He had kissed her and felt the child move against him in her belly. 

Who was this sleeping traveler who had Lyanna’s remains?

He saw the banner of a grey wolf on a field of white. He had seen it on that day he had died. He looked at the sleeping men in front of the tent. There was the crannogman keeping watch by the fire. But the man in blankets, on the ground, was a face he had been looking for to speak to and try to make amends. 

Lord Eddard Stark had dark hair and a long face. Even though it had been a few years, Rhaegar recognized him, A flash of anger and regret. He had not been thoughtful. If only, he had written and told them what they had planned. Rhaegar drifted above Stark, wondering if he was able to summon enough will to choke the life out of him.

 

It was then he heard the sound of a baby crying from inside a small tent.

It stilled him. 

As if Lyanna soul felt his spirit, he saw her spirit rise from the weirwood box. She had so much less substance than he did. She was almost incorporeal, misty. He tried to touch her, but she disappeared at the movement.

He spoke to the air, frustrated, powerless, “How did this happen, Lya? My love, what happened?”

Arthur stepped out of the shadow, “Your Grace?”

 

“Arthur” Rhaegar hugged his friend, even though he was a ghost like him, “How did you get here? What has happened to you? Lyanna?”

Arthur walked him to the tent and pointed for him to enter, “Your son with Lyanna lies within.” 

“My son?” 

“The child is yours, my Prince.”

 

Rhaegar spoke, “Mine? He is a boy…”

“Aye a boy.” he smiled

“What is his name?”

“Lord Stark calls him Jon, but Lyanna named him Aegon, Aegon the Seventh..”

“Aegon?”

Arthur gestured him to the tent to go and see his son. Rhaegar bent in to see the child. All his questions could wait now. After all, what could he do now? He kneeled next to the sleeping wet nurse and looked at his son. Ser Arthur waited outside keeping watch.

The baby was well made and a sweet thing. He looked at his eyes and saw they were grey. But, the baby had the features of Aegon and Rhaenys, their lips, their wide eyes, the long fingers. What had happened to his Aegon? Rhaenys? Elia?

 

A dark-haired woman rose sleepily from her mat. She and the child had seemed to feel Rhaegar's presence and had woken. 

“Do you miss your mother? Shh... Jon. Wylla’s here.”

 

The baby is little and Rhaegar moves closer to look at it. The baby has a full head of dark hair, like Lya. As he starts to latch on, the baby opens his eyes to look at his wet nurse, but he is focused on the beautiful, silver-haired man leaning over her. In his short time as a ghost, he was used to animals and children seeing him.

However, the woman saw him and sat up quickly, kneeling, her head bent, clutching the child to her breast.

“My lady, you can see me?

“Yes, Your Highness.” 

“Where is Lyanna? Why isn’t her spirit here? I have seen her bones in a box on the wagon but she is not here.”

“Lyanna passed away at the Tower of Joy. I do not know the whole way of it, how people leave or remain here, your Grace. Some folks remain behind. Others leave. Perhaps, she was too sad or tired to continue. Perhaps, she had felt complete, finished. 

“She left me... Why would she leave the child?”

Wylla did not want to argue with the Prince’s ghost, but she thought that Lyanna leaving this world was wiser than Prince Rhaegar's staying here as a spirit, haunted by his failings as a man and unable to do anything of substance as a ghost

“Ser Arthur tells me the boy is called Jon, but that his mother called him Aegon. What has happened to my first son, Aegon?” 

Wylla had thought this might be the truth of it. After all, Lord Dayne had always been a friend to House Targaryen, and it made sense why three Kingsguard had stayed with Lyanna. Lyanna had not been raped or held prisoner. This child was the rightful King, Aegon.

"Your Grace, Prince Aegon, Princess Elia and Princess Rhaenys were all murdered when the capital fell. Lannisters did it. I am sorry, so sorry. Dorne mourns the loss.”

“All of them?”

“All dead.”

“My mother, the Queen, and Prince Viserys?”

“They are on Dragonstone but King Robert plans to invade soon.” 

Rhaegar’s voice was filled with anguish, “Aegon is alone. I am not able to help him. He will be killed for certain.” 

 

“No, your Grace.. I mean no disrespect. I am just a woman, but I think the boy’s uncle is a man true to his word. He means to keep him safe. He means to and he is true. Jon will have his Uncle and the North. Lord Stark will take him to Winterfell, protected and safe.”

 

“How? How will anywhere be safe for an infant from House Targaryen?” 

“Because Lord Stark has told everyone that he is his son, his natural born son, Jon Snow. The Usurper... King Robert has already seen the child and believed the tale. He congratulated Lord Stark on putting his honor aside and enjoying life. He said Jon was well made. He thought I was his mother and Lord Stark did not correct him.” 

Wylla could see the frustration on Rhaegar’s face. The ghost prince looked like he wanted to break something or punch someone. He had lost everything and all that was left was this small helpless thing.

“A bastard? .. No. He is the King..”

 

“Your Grace, he is a baby, not a man. Winterfell sounds like a good place and the North is loyal to the Starks. Lord Stark will teach him to ride and hunt and rule. He will teach him to hold a sword and a bow and to read and to lead. I have watched him on our journey. He is a true man, loyal and honorable, not given to flattery. He will keep him safe. 

Rhaegar could not just lie down, not just be among the quiet dead, not just fade into the river rocks and air. He had risked everything to save the world and he had lost, almost everything. He still had his infant son, dark like his mother. There was a reason he had not gone to the Seven Heavens with Elia and his children. He still had things he must do. A Targaryen alone in the world is a terrible thing. He would stay with his son as long as he could. 

“I will go with him. Come Wylla. I must show the men.” 

“Your Grace?” Wylla spoke hesitant and questioning, but she wrapped up in her cloak and followed the Prince. 

\----  
Howland woke on the cold ground. He had fallen asleep, even though he had been certain he would never sleep here. He had slept. He noticed the spirits, walking like they had substance, thousands of men rising from the ground, the river as if called. Like mist, they rose and as they walked, they seemed to grow more solid. 

“Lord Stark... Lord Stark... Ned!” Howland did not call his friend by his name, often, once, maybe twice before, but he needed him to wake. 

 

Ghostly banners of various houses and the Targaryen three-headed dragon flew once again in the ghostly moonlight. Thousands of men stood. Howland could see their banners, Dornish, Riverlands, Reach, Crownlands. All the House they had fought against, all loyalist. Their ghost wounds bled black in the moonlight. There were thousands of spirits. If the spirits became hostile, they were doomed. Could steel defend against a ghost? Ned had his Valyrian blade, Ice, but what was one man against an army of the dead? 

Sleepily, Lord Stark opened his eyes, “What?”

“Do not make too much noise but look at the river... Look at the shore.” 

Ned rubbed his eyes and then looked at the river and the ghosts pulling themselves awake from the ground and the water, raising their broken banners, as the moon was high above them. As the comprehension and disbelief sunk in, Lord Reed could see his friend ’s eyes assess the situation. 

Ned spoke, barely above a whisper, “Where are Wylla and Jon?”

 

“Still in the tent sleeping.”

 

“We must get them and then we can get to the wagon. We should not have stopped here. Quickly..” 

Quietly and with great haste, they got up from where they rested. The dead seemed uninterested in them. They noticed them but did not seem to make any move to hurt them or attack. 

As they approached the tent, Wylla stepped from the tent, wrapped in her cloak with the baby pressed to her chest. Behind her was Rhaegar Targaryen’s ghost and Ser Arthur Dayne’s. Ser Arthur’s wound to his back was noticeable as if the moonlight shown directly on it. But Lord Reed knew one else noticed. After all, no one else living was here to see. 

Rhaegar had his hand on Wylla, guiding her to the edge of the river where a broken wagon stood. He stepped on it so that all might see her and gave her a ghostly hand to help her up, so she could stand with him, a lowly wet nurse near the Dragon Prince, a living woman next to the ghost prince.

Rhaegar spoke, his voice was deep and rich, like caramel, “Let them see for what they died for, who they fought for... Behold the King Aegon Targaryen VII of his Name, King of the Andals, the First Men and the Rhoynar. The Prince that was Promised. He will save the world when the White Walkers come. His song is the song of Ice and Fire.”

The crowd of thousands of ghostly soldiers kneeled, blades before them, heads bent. Knights and small folk in obeisance. A silence passed over the ghostly crowd. The dead bowed, as the wind moved the still, dark water of the Trident

Wylla looked at Ned. They all stood cheering for Aegon Targaryen, Prince who was Promised. It started like the sound of thousands of men, cheering and ended like a whistle of the wind through a winter’s wood. In a moment, they all disappeared, leaving Wylla alone on the wagon. Ned and Howland helped her down. 

They left before it was even completely light with the fog, heavy in the darkness. 

 

The next day, Ned rode on the wagon with Wylla. He did not speak for a long time. Finally, he spoke, “Last night was unusual and I am sure you might one day want to speak of it. You understand who the baby is?”

“He is Prince Rhaegar's son, the King. King Aegon.”

“You know, you must never talk of this. Will you promise me?”

She promised him on that morning that she would never speak of the night before. She understood what telling might mean for this child. Wylla promised Lord Stark, but she also promised Ser Arthur and Prince Rhaegar. Wylla did not tell Ned that Arthur was to the left of Jon and Rhaegar to the right. The Warden of the North seemed pale and she did not want to watch him pass out at such a revelation.

 

Wylla said nothing. Wylla said nothing when she arrived in Winterfell and the women whispered that she was the baby's true mother. She said nothing when the pretty young Lady Stark came smiling with her new son to Winterfell. Wylla said nothing when Lady Stark stayed in her room for a week crying over Lord Eddard’s bastard boy. Wylla said nothing when the time came for her to return to Starfall leaving behind a happy toddler to Old Nan’s care. 

When she left Winterfell, Jon was almost eighteen months old. He was walking. He was a smart boy and he loved her. He would hold her hair in between his fist as she rocked him. She cried when she left. 

However, she knew the boy would be fine. He had his Uncle. He had Old Nan, who adored him, as did Bess, Rodrik Cassel’s wife. Jon also had his father. Rhaegar, was there still, as he had promised to watch and helping his son with what he could. Ser Arthur, also stayed with the boy, protecting him, keeping him safe. Sometimes when Jon could not sleep, Rhaegar would sing and play his harp. The boy might not be able to hear his father’s song, but he would quiet and still, soothed nonetheless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has changed a great deal since I started writing it. I wanted it to be basically a love scene between Lyanna and Rhaegar. However, as I wrote, it did not seem to work for me. S
> 
> Instead, it became a hybrid of Lion King, LOTR- army of the dead, Sixth Sense.. I would like to see more of Wylla and Rhaegar or Ned and Wylla because they are Jon's parents, making parent decisions, but that is not this story..
> 
> I did add another chapter an epilogue. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it!


	3. Epilogue

Years passed, Wylla married another man and had more children. Still, she was the wet nurse for House Dayne. Wylla watched them go and fight in the War of the Five Kings, in the Dragon Queen’s war, in the Second War of the Dawn. 

When the Second War for the Dawn was fought, the new Lord of Starfall, Edric Dayne, the Sword of Morning, returned home. Ned was a good boy and a good man. She had thought of him as much as any of her children that she had given born to. After all, she had cared for him as much as his own mother. 

Taking her hand, he had spoken, “We must go to the capital and see the new King, Aegon VII. I have told him about you Wylla, told him we were milk brothers, told him about how you cared for him. He wants to meet you. He wants you to be at his coronation.”

“Bah... I am not ready to meet a King. I already have met one, King Robert and I was not impressed.”

“He would like to thank you. Please, Wylla. It is a great honor for House Dayne.”

I am too old. He does not want to see me.

Wylla, you are still as pretty as any lady in King’s Landing.” 

She laughed at his compliment. It was a foolish attempt at flattery.

“The King is not like other kings. He loves commoners, blacksmiths, soldiers. HIs hand is an old smuggler. He will love you as much as everyone does. Anyway, I know you want to see him. You cared for him and fed him. He will love you as much as any of us.”

Wylla knew she was not old but recently, her skin had begun to soften and wrinkle around the corners. 

The ship ride was uneventful and they arrived sooner than she thought it would take. King’s Landing was as smelly and crowded as before, especially because so many homes had burned in the war. When they stayed in the Red Keep, she still preferred to stay in the servants quarters to avoid the ghosts. 

On the third day, she was called to the King’s solar. Lord Dayne, her sweet boy Ned, took her arm and accompanied her. It was said that Lord Dayne might marry the King's cousin, a Stark girl, Arya. They had been friends from before the War when he was still squire for Lord Dondarrion.

The King looked a great deal like Ned Stark had all those years ago, but his lips were fuller like a Targaryen. He had the look of a King about him, even as he sat at his desk. Jon stood and smiled, as they entered the room. 

He reached his hands to her. Hesitant but glad to see him, she reached her hand to him. When he took her hand, she hugged him, “Look at how fine you are. When they gave you to me, all those years ago, I thought you would not make it.” 

Wylla looked at the King, “Your father told me that you would be great all those years ago. I thought it was the proud ramblings of a father.”

“My father? You must be mistaken. My father died before I was born. He never knew me or saw me.”

She clutched his hand and squeezed, “I am not mistaken or mad. Ser Arthur Dayne stands at your left side, your Grace, and your father, Prince Rhaegar stands at your right. They have stood there by your side for your entire life, helping you, guiding you. They stand there still.” 

Lord Edric Dayne tried to explain the King about Wylla’s strange gifts. But for a moment, Jon felt a peace and a comfort knowing that through all the war and death, the love, the trials of his life, that his real father had always been with him, helping him as much as he could.

King Aegon VII took this small woman by the arm like she was a highborn lady or his mother. Smiling, he thanked Lord Dayne for his gift and took the woman to the godswood so they could speak privately. She was the closest he had to a mother and he wanted to acquaint himself with her in private.


End file.
